


Bandit Territory

by Ki_ru



Series: Bandit. Bandit never changes. Or does he? [2]
Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Bandit is not a sweetheart anymore, Blow Jobs, Boys Kissing, Deepthroating, Eventual Fluff, Insecurity, Jäger's relationship status: complicated, Light Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, Nostalgia, Past Relationship(s), Reunions, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-15 16:05:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18076565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ki_ru/pseuds/Ki_ru
Summary: After a brief fling in the early 2000s, Jäger unexpectedly meets Bandit again in Rainbow and would be ecstatic about it... if Bandit just weren't sodifferent. Figuring out how to handle him requires some time.





	Bandit Territory

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cheloneh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheloneh/gifts).



> Thanks so much to [cheloneh](http://cheloneh.tumblr.com/) for helping to make this sequel possible!

“Oh look, here’s _another_ bloke whose dick I’ve seen before!”

Marius freezes. Stops hard in his tracks, momentarily unlearns the ability to walk so abruptly he almost causes Monika to crash into him because he knows this voice. Knows the gleaming, mocha brown eyes focusing on him with such intensity it’s paralysing, but apart from that, the man before him is shockingly unfamiliar despite Marius’ gut feeling screaming at him that they’ve met previously. He has a decidedly uncanny quality to him, like stumbling over a show from his childhood whose memory sleeps deep in his subconscious and merely stirs at the reminder without fully awakening.

Frantically, his brain attempts to scan the other German for characteristics likely to jog his memory, yet no part of his fits any image filed away: the short, brown, unkempt hair strikes a chord but he comes up empty for the trimmed beard, the lascivious smirk feels to him like a parody of something he once saw, a tattooed hand is holding a cigarette between thumb and index finger like a gangster – there’s hardly anyone Marius knows who’d be _this_ pretentious –, and the slim frame is very similar to his own. A leather jacket and ripped jeans complete the picture, and if it weren’t impossible, Marius might assume the guy must’ve gotten lost and wandered into the base.

He’s German, so there’s little chance of him not being GSG9, and his comment implied a certain level of involvement which Marius generally avoided with colleagues, so his confusion merely increases as endless-feeling seconds tick by without him coming up with anything useful.

And now the man has noticed the lack of recognition in Marius’ face because his grin slips a little, the impatient tapping of his foot ceases. He’s hurt and something in Marius cracks at this realisation. Invisible strings connect him to this stranger, that much is clear, but he can’t _remember_.

As he opens his mouth to ask, the person next to the rugged-looking guy speaks up instead with a boredom in his voice that betrays painful familiarity: “So what? I see your dick all the time, don’t act as if it was anything special.”

It hits him full force. He loses control over his legs and takes a step forward to recreate the last times they’ve met, faces bright with anticipation and joy, a brilliant smile blinding him right before those soft lips met his, before arms slung around him and he sunk into the timelessness of a lazy, content, responsibility-free weekend – but Dom, how could he forget, he’s called _Dom_ , Dominic, gentle and sweet and utterly crazy about him, no, Dom just sits there on his bench, smoking and watching him with a guarded expression probably a result of Marius’ initial failure to recognise him, makes no move to stand up or reciprocate and so Marius just hovers awkwardly before it finally sinks in what just happened.

His gaze snaps to the other guy who’s eyeing him suspiciously for some reason and shifting his weight in their direction, as if to put himself between them – it might not be what he’s doing, but Marius gets the distinct impression he’s not happy about the two of them knowing each other. And his words not only downplay Dom’s, they also imply a certain _something_ which makes Marius’ guts twist uncomfortably.

“Hey, I’m Elias”, he introduces himself belatedly and has the decency to shake Marius’ and Monika’s hand. “And this personified sunshine here is Dominic.”

“Call me Dom”, the very same adds pleasantly and no, Marius still can’t wrap his head around the fact that it’s _him_.

“Monika, great to meet you”, the woman by his side says and turns to him and he’s still staring.

The last time he saw Dom must’ve been over ten years ago and if he remembers correctly, Dom was in his late twenties then, in terrific shape and – not like this. The change is jarring, alarming even: he has lost weight, gained a scary-looking scar on the side of his head (and its length is genuinely troubling), and even looks his age. It’s not only the obvious parts which are disconcerting though, there’s an intangible aura of _wrongness_ surrounding him, clashing fiercely with the image of him in Marius’ head. Vaguely, he remembers how his initial impression included Dom being slightly… off.

During the whole debacle at his uncle’s, this premonition proved untrue, Dom turned out to be warm, caring, supportive, but the handful of times they met afterwards sometimes allowed for something deeper to surface, for a hidden danger to shine through the cracks: his heart pounding and adrenaline spiking as Dom raced them over the motorway entirely too fast, Marius clinging to him and not wanting to be a killjoy by shouting at him to slow down; the almost reverent way Dom recounted gory stories he heard on the job, fingers twitching and eyes flashing while Marius grimaced; a reckless disregard of his own life present in throwaway remarks, refusal to visit a doctor if there was anything wrong, small things. Small flaws Marius accepted because no one is perfect and Dom’s otherwise lovely attitude made up for it tenfold.

Now, however, it’s as if Dom has turned inside out – that which used to be a rare exception has become the norm, judging by his prickliness. And Marius doesn’t know how to deal with it.

“Look, cutie pie, I know I’m hot but if you keep staring I’ll have to charge you”, Dom addresses him all of a sudden and rips him out of his thoughts. The guy called Elias is regarding him with open dislike now and Monika doesn’t seem impressed either.

Marius doesn’t know what happened. All he knows is that he wants to find out, is overcome with the sudden urge to squeeze Dom until he leaks explanations, divulges what has changed him. “Do you have time to meet up later?”, his mouth expresses before his mind can stop it. “I’d like to catch up, it’s been a while.”

Elias’ face darkens but he doesn’t care. A flood of irrational sentiments forbids him from withdrawing his offer, thoughts like _I knew him first_ and _he’s still mine_ at the forefront – even though he has no legitimate claim on this sprawled-out man examining him pensively as he takes a long drag of his cigarette, and in his mind he hears something Dom said years ago: _It’ll kill you, I’ll never start smoking_.

“It has, hasn’t it”, Dom drawls and visibly enjoys being the focus of attention, bathes in it. “Sorry. I’m busy today.”

“How about tomorrow?”

“Also busy, I’m afraid.”

He doesn’t seem willing to offer any other alternatives, but Marius is dead set on it now. “Next week then?”

“Oh you know, I’m just so _busy_ like you wouldn’t believe”, Dom sighs in fake regret and Marius understands that he’s fucking with him even before Elias elbows him in the side with a murmured reprimand: “Don’t be a dick.”

By now, his ears are burning, partly in embarrassment and partly in anger. He briefly tells himself that he won’t let him get under his skin but immediately admits that he already lost this particular battle. He’s frazzled, confused, hurt and most of all disappointed – when Monika contacted him to reveal herself as one of the GSG9 who got recruited into this organisation alongside Marius, he was overjoyed and hoping he’d meet more people he came to know through his job, but he definitely wasn’t picturing anything like this. They’re meant to work together and the blatant way Dom is antagonising him is far from promising.

“Just let me know when you’re free”, he replies, voice tight and trying to save face, earning a sarcastic grin and an insincere _sure_ indicating that Dom has absolutely no intention to actually follow through.

Once they’re out of earshot again, Monika asks: “You know this guy? What’s he like?”

And it’s obvious she means _is he always like this_. Marius looks back to their new colleagues, Elias sitting too close and leaning into Dom’s personal space as he talks insistently at him, whereas Dom’s body language is relaxed. Noticing Marius, he flashes him yet another smirk and actually _winks_.

“I don’t know”, Marius replies honestly. “I really don’t know.”

 

Marius’ integration into Rainbow could’ve gone smoother. His boasting in front of the Russians was, while topical, received with blank stares, the Brits seem largely uninterested in him, he has a hard time catching most of the Americans’ jokes and only the French welcome him warmly. He doesn’t let it get to him, he knows both he and the others will take some time to get used to each other’s mannerisms, but one detail bothers him already: despite the organisation’s multinational nature, people tend to hang out within their own CTU. And while he enjoys Monika’s company immensely and even Elias’ frosty attitude thaws after a few days, Dom…

Dom is an asshole.

The realisation is sobering. Marius notices much too late that he’s still clinging to the past, thinking his own fond feelings _have_ to be reciprocated somehow, slumber deep inside Dom and if he’s pleasant enough towards him, he’ll unlock them. He awards Dom the benefit of the doubt to an unreasonable degree, laughs at his jokes even if he doesn’t understand them and suspects they’re sometimes subtly directed at him, never turns him down when he asks a favour of Marius, joins his conversations uninvited. Maybe Dom is the epitome of awkward and merely finds no outlet for his residual affection towards Marius.

And maybe he’s just an asshole.

He spends entirely too much time just watching this person who’s gone from a lover to a complete stranger over time, wondering how much his brain has falsified his memories out of misguided nostalgia – has Dom’s humour always been this morbid? Was he this rude to people he didn’t like? Did he always refuse to accept other people’s suggestions over his own? It’s possible he’s retroactively correcting Dom’s behaviour to justify his own infatuation, wanting to feel better about himself, entertain the notion of _I’d never have fallen for a guy like him_. He digs up old messages he saved and re-reads them until his eyes hurt, even checks conversations he had with other people about Dom for indications of his blindness, but no. Going by everything he finds, Dom used to be wonderful.

Dom certainly wasn’t the type to call an ex ridiculously cheesy pet names despite his boyfriend glaring at him from the other side of the room.

Even leaving aside the vague feeling of humiliation at Dom’s merciless teasing and crude remarks, Marius would be uneasy over the random bursts of attention he receives from Dom for Elias’ sake. They live together. And it doesn’t sound like a similar arrangement to the one Marius has with Monika, a shared desire not to be lonely coupled with the practicality of paying less rent, no, Elias and Dom seem _extremely_ familiar with each other. Overly familiar. Neither of them needs to spell it out because the way they drift towards each other constantly is telling enough, the way they butt into each other’s conversation to divulge a very personal fact, the way they kick each other under the table, exchange insults, buy each other food constantly and often have short, quiet, serious talks in which Dom seems to soften. There’s no doubt of what these two mean to each other and Marius can’t help the twinge of jealousy every time he looks at them. Every single time.

And so when Dom suddenly appears by his side, hip cocked and picking up a fragile electrical part Marius almost snatches out of his hands straightaway, he knows it means trouble. He’s generally safe in the workshop, chatting with Monika or Manu (the Frenchwoman, an utter sweetheart) or the young, aloof Brit who rarely speaks except to correct people, and far away from judging Elias peering at him as if he was a stern librarian considering whether Marius needs to be disciplined or not.

“You free today, Streicher?” Dom pretends to drop the small object and snorts when Marius leaps halfway out of his chair. “You’re so fucking high-strung it’s a miracle you haven’t snapped.”

“Please put it back”, he asks quietly and looks around. Some of the usual occupants have gone for a food run and the remaining people don’t seem inclined to come to his rescue. Supposedly since they’re not aware he requires rescuing. If Monika were here, she’d notice his silent cry for help and suddenly develop an acute problem demanding his attention and he wonders if Dom caught him alone on purpose.

“We can go out for those drinks you were so desperate about”, the other man suggests, sounding bored but at least handing the vital part of Marius’ current project back to him, though not without stealing his notebook next and rifle through the pages. Personal space seems to mean nothing to him.

His offer is odd. “Oh, are you finally not busy anymore?”, Marius can’t help but remark sharply and regrets immediately as the lazy grin this earns him is painfully attractive, despite all. It took him a few days to understand but Dom is still Dom, remains a person who keeps popping up in his head now and then, someone he wishes he could’ve held onto. And even if his new ‘look’ isn’t at all Marius’ type, the pull he feels towards him runs deeper than superficial appearances.

“Take it or leave it, buttercup.”

If he’s honest, the only option is to turn him down. Dom doesn’t seem inclined to befriend him, not with the way he’s behaving, and seeing as he’s got Elias for all the things Marius would like to do to him outside of an unlikely friendship, this part doesn’t apply either. He’s been snubbed constantly, been made fun of and alienated. If this is meant to be a peace offering, it’s a weak one as Dom is trying to spin it so Marius looks like the one chasing him, as if he’s been begging for a meeting and Dom is doing him a favour by eventually giving in to his pleas. It leaves behind a bad taste in his mouth.

He needs to decline.

“Alright”, he says.

Goddammit.

 

“How high are the chances he’s actually going to turn up?”, Monika murmurs distractedly while sketching on plotting paper on Marius’ desk. It happens often enough that they barge into each other’s rooms to share ideas or seek a solution and he has to admit, it’s oddly soothing to not only depend on someone but also have them rely on him. He met her years ago, even before he was deployed to Somalia and they loosely kept in touch due to physical distance and both professional as well as personal obligations. Looking back, he wishes he’d noticed their compatibility sooner and furthered their friendship much earlier, but they’re going to have enough opportunity to do so now. If her persistent proximity and grateful smiles are anything to go by, she’s just as glad as he is they decided to share an apartment.

Marius takes off the jeans in which he just noticed a tiny hole and tosses it back into his wardrobe. “I’ll be honest, until just now I didn’t even consider him _not_ coming. So thank you. Thanks for that.”

Monika shoots him a fake innocent smile. “Always. Tell me though, why are you agonising over this like a teen sweating over their graduation party?”

He defeatedly eyes the parade of dress shirts he laid out all over his room. “I don’t even know, Moni. He’s got a boyfriend, so it’s not like I’m trying to impress him.”

“Don’t forget he’s a bit of a dick. If he didn’t have Elias, would you try to impress him still?”

Would he? His brows draw together as he ponders the question. Enjoying attention has always been one of his greatest weaknesses – he likes being in the spotlight, provided it’s flattering, and even more so when he’s being admired. In school, he encountered trouble making and keeping friends, leaving him affirmation-starved and hungry for any compliment he could get, resulting in a few questionable choices later on. There was a time when he was willing to do anything just to feel loved, appreciated, valued, and some instances where he went a little too far.

Dom struck him as someone Marius would always aspire to be yet never reach. He was confident, funny, kind, competent and independent, making his affection incredibly addicting to Marius: someone he genuinely admired wanted to be with him. It was as unthinkable as it was intoxicating. Now, however – barely anything of this initial admiration remains. He disapproves of most of Dom’s behaviour, even finds him unpleasant to be around. Maybe he’s just chasing memories, telling himself there’s a _real_ Dom buried under smoke, vulgarity and hurtful bluntness. And he’s not willing to accept that what he’s facing is the real Dom, that even if he digs down all the way he won’t find anything different.

“What happened between you two?” Monika rarely beats around the bush and has no patience for people she deems not worth her time. It’s clear she counts Dom among them.

“Not even that much, to be honest. When I came out to my uncle, he agreed to pose as my boyfriend. It was stupidly cute, actually, he had a crush on me – he knew me because his twin brother and I were working together – and I had a crush on him but thought he was straight.” Putting it in words like this makes it seem strangely sterile. “Well, things happened and we had an odd long distance thing going for a while, but no real commitment. We called each other now and then and met up a few times more and it was always lovely, just – the feel good montage in a romcom, you know? I tried dating a bunch of different guys but it never worked out, I don’t know whether he did, he didn’t want to talk about it. But whenever I was single again, I called him and we’d meet on a weekend. Until he called one day and said he didn’t want to see me anymore.”

“Ouch.” Monika grimaces. “How come?”

“I don’t know, he never said. It’s not like we were together, not really, so I tried not to take it to heart.”

“And you never talked to him again?”

He shakes his head. “His brother disappeared too. I asked around at some point because I was really worried something had happened to Dom, but people told me he was fine. Moved around a little, job-related, but it seemed like he just didn’t want me anymore.”

“Then you’d do best to move on as well in my opinion.” Monika shrugs and then points. “Go with this pair of jeans, they’re neutral enough and don’t really scream _fuck me_.”

“You’re a lifesaver.” He quickly dons the trousers in question and starts picking up the shirts in which he looks irresistible – Monika is right, he doesn’t want to look his best, he’s not a homewrecker.

“What about the one you didn’t take out?” And of course, she’s referring to the subtly-patterned one still hanging in his wardrobe.

“That one doesn’t fit me”, he replies, feeling like something’s stuck in his throat. He doesn’t mention there was no point at which it actually fit him, but he’s worn it plenty of times nonetheless. Usually when no one could see him.

 

On his way to the pub at which they agreed to meet, Marius’ chest is filled with hope. He’s discarded the notion that Dom is going to stand him up, he doesn’t seem the type, and Marius hasn’t given up on him yet – maybe Dom is simply trying to figure out how to deal with both his boyfriend and an ex; working together with both honestly sounds like a nightmare. Or it might be suppressed guilt, Marius has encountered people who transformed the shame from their own transgressions into anger. Whatever it is, he’s sure he’ll eventually find out and it’ll help them move past these initial issues.

He’s excited to learn how Dom ended up in Rainbow, curious to hear what he’s been up to in the meantime, and in his mind he’s already playing out scenarios, picturing a heartfelt apology, a much calmer and rueful Dom who opens up to him in a more private setting, reminiscent of the person he used to be.

When he arrives, he parks his car – having debated walking, a slight drizzle convinced him that he should try to survive the evening with no more than one beer – and heads out, already hearing loud voices echo through the street, apparently originating from the very building towards which he’s walking, the source being a group of men gathered directly outside the door, inebriated and just the kind of crowd Marius generally avoids.

A group of men containing the same person he’s here to meet.

Marius has never been good at working crowds, has always been too aware of his own body language which sounds like a plus for someone who mainly goes to clubs to flirt with cute guys but ends up a disadvantage as he forgets how to speak in favour of knowing exactly where his feet are pointing. He prefers one on one conversations and _certainly_ prefers conversing with sober parties if it’s concerning a serious topic.

So this is an abysmal start.

“Here’s the man of the hour!”, Dom calls excitedly as soon as he spots him and hurries over. His thorns have wilted a tad, the expressions informing everyone he’s too cool for school slipping a little and revealing a hint of sincerity. Marius doesn’t doubt he’s more agreeable company when drunk but he didn’t come here to bask in Dom’s presence, he came here for answers and as nice as the arm slung around his waist is, it doesn’t betray any of Dom’s secrets. “I’ve been waiting for you. How good are you at dart and do you have some cash to place bets?”

He’s dragged over to the small crowd and greeted exuberantly by what looks like Herefordshire’s elite going by annual consumption of alcohol. To put it mildly, he’s getting more and more uncomfortable.

“His aim is just as great as his ass”, Dom states helpfully and tightens his grip to lean in and peck Marius on the cheek, beard ticklish and lips wet and that’s it.

For the majority of his life, this is what he’d do in these kinds of situations: he’d laugh it off and pretend he’s having a good time, go along with whatever the more dominant figure demands, be it at work or school or an extended friends group. He projected having a big mouth but really, he was terrified of ending up as an outcast, of not getting invited anymore. It took him forever to kick this habit, to eventually decide how much his time is worth, whether he really should bend to people he doesn’t even like. But he managed. So here he is.

“I’m leaving”, he says calmly, twists out of Dom’s half-embrace, wipes his cheek and walks back to his car, unhurried. The rush of power momentarily eclipses his thorough disappointment even if the two begin a fierce battle when Dom skips after him and catches his wrist. Marius halts, ignoring the shouting from the men behind them, and fixes Dom with a level gaze. “Don’t touch me.”

Even in his advanced state of intoxication, Dom is able to read his features and react accordingly. His lopsided smirk has long faded though his reddened cheeks haven’t, and he lets Marius go without protest. For some reason, he looks hurt.

“I can drive you home.”

“You want to leave already? Spoilsport.”

“It’s not the drinks I came here for.” Dom examines him a little longer and eventually nods, follows him to his car mutely and gets in without making eye contact once. If Marius didn’t know better, he’d say Dom was pouting, probably planned an evening of getting pissed and hanging out with an old mate and not at all one of reminiscing or talking about _feelings_. He used to be the type to do so occasionally, now Marius doubts it. The way the lithe body next to his own is sprawled out on the passenger seat is painfully familiar, reminds him of all the times he chauffeured for Dom, carted him around Berlin or the Ruhr area while listening to hard rock and heavy metal and Dom complaining about his reckless driving.

“Put your seatbelt on.”

Dom huffs and rolls his eyes and acts like Marius is asking entirely too much but obliges nonetheless. “You’re so fucking boring.” Here, in the silence of the car, it becomes even more obvious he’s slurring his words.

“Good. I like boring. Boring is safe. Besides, you can’t have forgotten my racing skills – and this is a right-hand drive.”

The throwback achieves the desired effect in that Dom shows a minuscule smile and stretches out more comfortably in the seat after moving it back as far as possible. He smells of smoke but his legs are long and his eyes attentive and his voice the very same which made Marius forget the time during several phone calls. And selfish as it is, he doesn’t mind the way Dom obviously checks him out.

Still, their conversation is awkward. Neither of them mentions what just happened and carefully avoids talking about the past – both keep the topics blurry and general, focused on similarities rather than discrepancies and never really dive deep, a soft murmuring of shallow subjects which Marius appreciates regardless because it’s the first time Dom is behaving like a normal human being again. His laugh is sarcastic and subdued as if it sounded wrong to his own ears, his remarks cynical and disillusioned but he’s making an effort, that much is apparent.

And so when he invites Marius up to his and Elias’ flat, he doesn’t think twice about accepting.

“You know, you haven’t changed at all”, Dom tells him quietly as he carefully shuts the door behind them, so Marius follows his lead and lowers his voice, assuming Elias has already gone to bed and shouldn’t be disturbed.

“You have.”

“I haven’t _really_. I’ve always been like this. And you used to like it, remember how I gave that Jack Wolfskin dude hell because he called you a poof?”

Marius grins without meaning to. Of course he remembers, Dom put on his worst Berlin accent and hollered insults which both scandalised and amused Marius to no end, a childlike joy bubbling up in him over hearing someone else spew what he’s carried on his chest for so long.

“And his hyena of a wife thought it’d be a good idea to call the police”, Dom continues, muffled voice full of excitement. They’d looked at each other, full of disbelief, and thought the same thing: _we_ are _the police_. The memory feels like a lightbulb inside Marius which just switched on after years of not being used, flooding him with brightness and, most of all, warmth.

“Those poor lads”, he chuckles, referring to the two uniforms which were called in and promptly shown Dom’s and Marius’ GSG9 IDs. “I’ll never forget their faces.”

“The younger one was about to break something with how fast he apologised.”

Both of them are beaming at each other now and yes, this feels good, almost divine actually – the alcohol might’ve loosened his tongue a bit but the Dom he knows is beginning to creep back into this unfamiliar shell. They haven’t even taken off their shoes, are still hovering by the coat rack like invited guests forgotten by the host and when Dom moves closer, Marius reaches out and suddenly they’re touching, bodies pressed against each other and seeking comfort in body heat, hot breath against the side of his neck and causing a brief shudder and goosebumps. He’s hesitant to call it hug as it’s more of a _cling_ , fingers digging hard into fabric and instead of providing solace, it takes his breath away.

This is bad, his brain informs him and he presses a little closer. “Dom”, he whispers into the nape of Dom’s neck, “I want to talk – I just want to talk. And catch up. What’ve you been doing -”

“I want to talk about how passionately we fucked afterwards.” His mouth is dry. He pictures it, recalls the smell of hot asphalt, sweat lining Dom’s brow as he masterfully took him apart, more attentive than most of Marius’ previous lovers, unabashed and unapologetic, the stuffy, cramped apartment with its terrible shower suddenly the centre of their universe. “You were so hard for me, the entire time.”

A thigh slips between Marius’ and he barely suppresses a whimper at the surge of pleasure, the sudden pressure enticing him to take advantage of it and it’s a terrible idea, one of the worst he’s had in his life but Dom’s cologne is familiar and so is the possessive hand on his hip, the fog clogging his thoughts and slowly bringing them to a standstill. He’s forgetting something and the rasping of coarse hair over his jaw is doing nothing to jog his memory, nothing at all, neither does the content sigh coming from Dom? Himself? Both of them?

He tastes of whisky, an earthy, almost wooden aroma, of nostalgia and electricity. The beard is new but the way he licks Marius’ mouth open isn’t, he’s always been phenomenal at this. Marius remembers lazy mornings, hand holding while in the cinema, open, almost demonstrative kisses and cards a hand through wild, soft hair. It’s been entirely too long since he’s been kissed like this, attraction thrumming just below his skin and breathing neglected in favour of exploring someone else’s mouth and when there’s a small sound not coming from either of them, Marius opens his eyes and is faced with a thunderstruck Elias over Dom’s shoulder.

Oh _fuck_.

How could he forget?

And during the seconds of blind, shrill panic which follow, while he shoves Dom away from him and wipes his mouth, he realises with sudden clarity that he didn’t forget, not really, that a small part of him is actually _triumphant_ and it makes him feel sick. Emotions well up in him, as ugly as they are unbidden, notions like _maybe you don’t deserve him if he wants me this much_ and _he’s mine_ and _just admit defeat_. He squashes them as quickly as possible and feels his face burn in shame – he’s never done anything like this. He’d be lying if he claimed not to have thought of getting involved with someone who’s taken but never acted on it, knowing full well it was his feeling of inferiority pushing for more affirmation than he rightfully deserves.

It’s one of the worst moments of his life, watching Dom turn around and hold Elias’ hard gaze before simply leaving, pushing past him and disappearing into a room whose door shuts with a final sounding _click_. From one second to the next, he’s gone, nothing tethering Marius to this alternative reality anymore in which Dom was _his_ and so he has no choice but to face his colleague, a potential friend, someone whom he must’ve hurt immensely.

“I’m so sorry. Really, I’m – I’m sorry.” Words tumble out of his mouth at a million miles per hour. Excuses form in his mind, _he kept coming onto me_ , _I didn’t encourage him_ , _he said you had a fight_ , but this isn’t the time to lie, at least not like this. He knows better than that. “I’m completely out of line, I know. This was a mistake and there’s really no excuse, I should’ve left him alone – I’m sorry. I’ll stay away from him, you have nothing to worry about, I’ll never be alone with him again, I swear.” Elias didn’t need to know it was reciprocal, that Dom sent cues as well as picking up on them. If it saved their domestic life, Marius will take the fall gladly, he knows they’re good for each other.

Elias blinks at him, stony façade crackling in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“He’s yours”, Marius clarifies, desperate for any sign of forgiveness. “I’ll never touch him again.”

“Oh.” The other man shakes his head. “You thought we’re – I’m, we’re not -”

And he can’t be fucking serious.

 

A few minutes later, Marius sits in the kitchen, head in his hands and Elias opposite him drinking a cup of coffee with a vaguely amused aura around him. “I can see why you’d assume so”, Elias says gently. “But there never has been anything nor will there be.”

Marius is still trying to determine whether this redeems himself somehow but fact is that he made out with someone he thought was in a relationship. It certainly retroactively improves Dom’s behaviour, albeit only marginally – despite him being single, the awful nicknames and uninvited touches were inappropriate regardless. “I’m an idiot”, he murmurs, “I’m such a dumb idiot. Sorry you had to see this with your own two eyes, it’s a huge mess and even I don’t know what’s going on.”

“I tried to keep him away from you.” Elias’ voice is steady as he traces the irregular pattern on the tabletop with a fingertip, gaze lowered. “I didn’t know you two knew each other from so long ago – he hung around with the wrong people and I only caught the tail end of it but it was troubling still. At first I thought you were one of them.”

He appreciates the change of topic fiercely, as much as he does Elias’ honesty. “When did you two meet?”

“A few years ago. He was drifting. I’m hoping Rainbow is good for him, gives him some structure in his life.”

“When we met, he was…” A sigh. “Wonderful. Ambitious and self-assured. I only know him as a sweetheart. He was lovely.”

“Yeah, well.” Elias takes a sip and reminds Marius that he, too, has a freshly-brewed cup in front of him, courtesy of Elias who’s turning out to be much more friendly than Marius thought he’d be. “People change. And maybe you should ask yourself whether you’re not projecting memories onto someone you don’t really know anymore.”

He supposes he deserves these words, no matter how much they might sting. “I really don’t know how to deal with him.”

A sad shake of the head. “I don’t think he knows either.”

 

~*~

 

Marius feels like a contagious disease. It’s as if he’s carrying an invisible forcefield which pushes Dom away from him proportionally to how aggressively or casually he approaches him to the point of ridiculousness – and if there hadn’t been this sinking feeling, the ever-present hurt, he would’ve laughed at it. Not even sure what brought this hostile avoidance on, he’s left to watch Dom slip out of rooms moments after he’s entered them. He’s trying to stop a stream with his hands, catch a rainbow. It’s futile.

The pet names have disappeared entirely as have the vaguely threatening inclusions into conversations to which he couldn’t really contribute which should be a relief but, strangely, isn’t. He’s invisible. Brown eyes with golden specks in them glide over him, unseeing, never focusing on him no matter what. He’s untouchable, but not the strong, independent type. More like the type with the lowest social status.

He’d like to talk about what happened and conducts endless conversations in his head, whether he’s under the shower, soldering, lying in bed, driving, shopping, doing any activity which doesn’t require his full brain capacity. It turns out there’s many of those. In some, he apologises for everything and anything he either did or might’ve done, any offence, any step too close; in others he demands answers, lays out exactly how Dom’s behaviour is disrespectful, upsetting and downright rude. They leave him frazzled and ultimately yield no results as he never gets to act out any of them.

The uncertainty paralyses him. Without knowing what’s going on in Dom’s head, he can’t fell any decision, can’t force his feelings one way or another because while he’s pretty sure there’s a mutual attraction still, it’s volatile, delicate, hard to grasp. He knows Dom sends Elias his way when their microwave breaks, so he remembers Marius’ penchant for tinkering, and he also chats about Dom’s motorcycle on a few occasions which, despite having been left in Germany, sounds well cared for, implying that Dom mentioned this particular passion of Marius’ as well. But what does it _mean_? Elias never lets on whether Dom speaks favourably of him or with disdain and Marius is too proud to ask.

 

Throughout the entire ordeal, Monika is no help whatsoever (not that he can blame her) and even decides to drop a bomb on him one Friday night. Marius is, as usual, spread out on their couch, half-heartedly typing away on his laptop and catching up on things he would’ve finished long ago if he hadn’t been preoccupied with figuring out whether he smells bad when his flatmate sticks her head in with a curious expression. She waits patiently until he’s done thinking and has looked up, then flashes him a smile which is a tad _too_ bright.

“I had the idea of inviting the other two boys over for dinner. Elias is nice and Dom might thaw around you if it’s a more informal setting. Do you think it’s worth a try?”

He has no doubt that Dom will refuse. “Sure, go for it.”

“Great. That’s the answer I wanted to hear.” And with impeccable timing, the doorbell rings, widening Monika’s smile.

Marius _stares_. “You expected me to say no, didn’t you.”

“Yep.”

“So you invited them anyway.”

“Mhm.”

“And when you asked me to help you with some technical issues tonight, you only wanted to make sure I’m here and not out.”

“I’m so proud of you, you’re a regular Sherlock Holmes.” She winks at him and disappears before he can throw anything after her – he doesn’t even have any time to panic despite their apartment being in its usual disarray. Neither of them enjoy tidying nor are they bothered by chaos which has turned out to be the best combination for a peaceful existence but the worst if they’re expecting guests. He quickly snatches a few of their clothes strewn about and tosses them into their respective rooms, realising much too late that he’s barefoot as well as wearing a simple t-shirt and sweatpants, his normal attire for his home but certainly not suitable for visitors, yet right as he ponders whether disappearing for a few minutes is worth the headache he’ll get from agonising over what else to throw on versus the slow burn of self-consciousness when entertaining guests in this slob-worthy outfit, his eyes meet Dom’s over Monika’s shoulder and -

Wow. He really came after all.

He doesn’t look bad, either, his hair seems to have been in contact with a brush less than 24 hours ago, his beard is neater than normal and he even appears to be sober. “You’ve been living here for just over a month and it already looks like the inside of a fucking toolbox”, he says. Alright, he didn’t leave his attitude at home but Marius can work with this. At least he’s _here_.

“As long as you can’t fix your own damn microwave, you don’t get to complain”, Monika shoots back, unimpressed. “There’s method to this madness, I bet you that whichever tool you name, both of us know exactly where it is.”

“I’ll take you up on that bet”, Elias chimes in cheerfully. “A hammer?”

“Don’t be boring, I can see it from here”, Dom grumbles. “What about a cable stripper?” Wordlessly, Monika points to a box on one of the shelves lining the corridor even before Marius can reach in and present it triumphantly. “Still too easy. Voltmeter?”

“In the kitchen -”

“- middle cupboard -”

“- right next to the pasta.”

“Where else would it be?”, Dom sighs, shaking his head at the two of them. “Unbelievable.” And as he toes his shoes off, Elias asks for a few others, visibly impressed – and though Dom bitches some more, it still sets the tone for the evening.

Marius does his best not to let his joy tug on the corners of his mouth.

 

It’s tiptoeing. It’s manoeuvring a room full of kittens, skidding over ice, carrying a very full bowl of soup, sneaking to the fridge in the middle of the night – and that’s okay. Befriending a skittish animal is never easy and requires time and patience, and though Marius rarely showcases the latter, he’s trying. And the longer he looks at Dom, the more he realises why he’s undergoing the effort when Monika has told him before not to bother, when Elias’ clueless advice is demotivating, when Dom himself seems intent on dissuading him.

He’s witty. His slightly sarcastic charm and ability to spot the amusingly absurd in everyday conversations is still present, even if it’s sharper, more in focus than in used to be, interspersed with more casual swears and more likely to upset. He’s taken his filter off and stopped caring about repercussions, resulting in shocked chuckles now and then, some of them out of habit instead of genuine entertainment. Overall, Marius has to admit he’s full of esprit and doesn’t even overdo his role as ever-irritated cynic.

He’s interesting. On the occasions when he actually elaborates on a topic with which he’s familiar, his insights are innovative despite the dismissive way they’re offered, like someone who’s long used to having his views disregarded. The creativity he displays is unlike Marius’ own: where he pours over a problem, pursues an idea he deems elegant and buries his teeth in it until it either succeeds or he’s absolutely sure it never will, Dom readily accepts imperfection as a necessary evil and is much more adept at finding short-term solutions – he’s less lost on the battlefield with his spontaneity and multitude of ideas he can develop on the fly.

And, most of all: he’s… compatible. When it comes down to it, talking to him is on a whole other level than talking to Montagne, for example. The Frenchman is one of the friendliest people Marius knows and he enjoys his company, yet there’s no substitute for the _look_ he shares with Dom when Elias mentions his car making odd noises but he doesn’t want to have in inspected, nothing which gives Marius quite the same feeling as Dom picking up on whatever reference he’s making, understanding him when even Marius himself struggles to decipher his own thoughts. Their way of thinking is remarkably similar in a lot of ways, including self-deprecating humour, a generally disillusioned view of humanity, and a dislike for anything idle chatter, wilfully ignorant and self-important. Now that Dom has ceased to antagonise him on purpose, they end up on the same side surprisingly often.

He already sees himself meeting up with Dom once again, a second chance which goes over much more smoothly this time, and possibly ending in… well. He’s not sure what he’s wishing for at this point, but all he knows is that it’d need to be something new. Clinging to a phantom from his past is hurtful and unconstructive, he’s come to accept this. But that doesn’t mean he’s ever stopped wanting to be close to Dom in whatever way possible.

This evening, while they crowd the already small kitchen, accidentally turn a simple recipe into a massive time waster with their distracted inefficiency, Elias crying over onions he cuts irregularly due to hardly being able to see anything, Dom forgetting his task of opening tomato cans in favour of trying to fix their shitty can opener, Marius misreading half of the recipe and Monika ensuring they don’t set the flat on fire – while all this is going on, Marius’ head is filled with what-if and I-wish and wouldn’t-it-be-nice.

Which is why he’s utterly thunderstruck when Dom sees the shirt.

He really did try his best to skirt around any topic which could trigger nostalgia or lead Dom to think the past is all Marius cherishes about him, he made sure to avoid all allusions. And then there it is, dripping with memories as it lies in feigned innocence draped over Marius’ bed, well-worn to sleep and wrinkled, donated after their first night at his uncle’s, after the next day, after feverish kisses and stumbling into his flat, after compliments heaped on compliments, after a shower and the kitchen table and then another shower, lunch in bed, and after the promise of another meeting. He charmed Dom out of it and refused to wash it for a week, asked him to put it on next time, even at one point posed with it hanging off his narrower shoulders to help Dom endure a month somewhere in the Middle East.

Yet here it is, standing out as if it was of a shrill colour and immediately catching Dom’s eye and how could Marius explain that it lost its original purpose about a year after Dom broke up with him, that he kept it more out of habit and rarely allowed it to jog his memory without sounding like he’s making excuses?

The sound of ripping fabric makes his stomach drop even further. He blindly reaches out in fake calmness, murmuring Dom’s name, trying to cover his hands with his own to interrupt this arguably justified destruction. It is technically still Dom’s shirt, after all.

Neither his throat nor his brain possess the capacity to find the right words – provided they even exist – and so he’s stuck watching Dom almost methodically reduce the piece of clothing to no more than confetti of their past, jaw clenched in what looks like disappointment. Marius has never wanted to hold onto someone this badly, communicate the writhing mass of thoughts and emotions he can’t articulate through telepathy only, because Dom looks _broken_.

If Marius wasn’t suspecting himself of projecting, he’d call the turmoil on Dom’s face heartbreak.

Fingertips glide over warm skin but find no purchase and so Dom escapes his attempted grip easily, leaving behind shredded memories and toxic air. Marius is dizzy all of a sudden.

“You can talk about your prototype later, food’s done!”, Elias calls from the kitchen a second before the apartment door slams shut and the silence which follows is deafening, roaring in Marius’ ears even louder than his own blood. So loud that he doesn’t understand Monika’s question as he grabs his phone and lets his bare feet carry him to where he really wants to be.

 

Dom’s forehead is resting on the steering wheel and while it’s fortunate as it means he hasn’t left yet, it’s also gut-wrenching to see him this defeated. The overhead light in the car is still on and floods the slumped shoulders with unforgiving clarity in the low light of the late evening, sun only just set and leaving the coarse asphalt under Marius’ soles comfortably warm. He drinks Dom in like bitter medicine, forces himself to consider what he’s doing for a moment and then lightly taps the window on the passenger side. When Dom looks up, he seems tired, too tired to give in and unlock the door after Marius tries it to no avail.

Their gazes lock. He doesn’t have enough energy to be angry. After a few seconds which each feel like a small eternity, he allows Marius in.

It smells faintly of weed, yet another detail he updates in his head. He doesn’t know what to say once he’s sat down.

“You’re not the only one who’s pretty fucking upset that I’m not like I used to be”, Dom spits at him, all venom he must’ve saved up over weeks but Marius doesn’t think the aggression Dom’s showing him is the important part in this, no. It’s whatever he’s poisoning himself with.

He remembers the young man with whom he fell in love from one day to the next, remembers him tackling problems head-on, facing whatever was bothering him, remembers his unforced, beautiful smile, his easy confidence. And he’s certainly not the only one who remembers all this. There’s probably a reason as to why Dom has become good friends with Elias who’s never met him before.

Before he starts getting misty-eyed, he puts his seatbelt on and says: “Drive.”

“I don’t have anywhere to go”, Dom shoots back and Marius can feel his heart crackling once more. He wants to reach out, run his fingers over the scar, through the beard, along the inky swirls, just hold him and tell him it’s going to be okay.

“Then just drive.”

He starts fiddling with the radio just as Dom leaves the city. It still has a CD reader, so he switches to it first and snorts when Iron Maiden immediately begins blasting at them – they’re a staple, so he’s not surprised, but he still turns to Dom who’s staring straight ahead at the road before him. “Do you have anything new?”

It’s likely the newest Maiden album so he should’ve clarified, but Dom nonetheless seems to understand, glances over, then gestures at the glove box. “Check in there, the mostly black one.”

“Because _that_ narrows it down”, Marius mutters and earns an amused huff which he counts as a win. He finds the correct one though, and reads the band’s name while exchanging the CDs: “ _Every Time I die_. Lovely.”

“Lovely music for lovely people”, Dom agrees and he’s audibly humouring Marius now. It’s a start. “There’s a band called _Everything is terrible_ and they have an album with the title _Intensely Distressed and on the Verge of Mental Collapse_. So it could always be worse.”

The first song begins with a downright dirty riff Marius thoroughly enjoys and when he comments on it, Dom’s lips lift a little. They stay on the topic of music for a while, even pause the CD so Marius can play some songs from his phone. From there it’s a small step over to films and that’s when Dom very casually says: “I didn’t get the chance to watch _Zombieland_ when it came out, they don’t have cinemas in prison.”

And holy shit.

Marius pauses, notices Dom’s grip on the steering wheel tightening and realises exactly what he has to do. Very carefully, he wants to know: “Does that mean you didn’t get to see _Avatar_ either?”

Dom’s involuntary smirk lets him know that he’s finally figured it out.

Nobody in their right mind enjoys being a victim. It’s demeaning, in a way, reduces a person to a passive state, denies their agency: something was done _to_ them. They either had no chance or failed to resist in whichever way possible, and dwelling on this fact overshadows the human behind the label.

Undercover work is some of the hardest and most dangerous there is, at least when compared to what they’re doing now: the risk of them dying on the job is significant but there’s always downtime between missions, periods where fearing for their lives becomes a distant memory. In undercover, this risk is present every day. Every day for five years. Every minute while Dom was doing time. Five years of persistent lying, playing a role, _becoming_ someone else.

Dom doesn’t explain how he got the scar, doesn’t mention any of the things he was forced to do. He keeps to subclauses and casual remarks, divulges more and more under the front of talking about semi-relevant events during the time they didn’t communicate and Marius doesn’t pry. He fights to keep his composure with every new detail revealed – _Hell’s Angels_? Really? Drug trafficking? – and tries to stay natural, inquires about the meaning of the tattoos instead of expressing sympathy, asks whether Dom got to ride Harleys to his heart’s content and _doesn’t_ ask how many people he had to betray and kill who genuinely adored him as a friend.

All of this has happened to Dom, so much more Marius can’t even imagine, but Dom refuses to be a victim. It’s happened, it’s over, he’s changed, but that’s the way it is.

He makes a game out of it. Nonchalantly mentions pirates and, at Dom’s initial disbelief, jokes about internet piracy before switching topics. Achievements of his get sprinkled into their conversation here and there, important events shaping his own life mentioned in the middle of a sentence and when Dom catches what he’s doing, he smiles. It’s the first full, genuine, glaringly bright smile directed at Marius ever since they met again and he’s dangerously close to tearing up or asking Dom to stop so he can hug him because he’s never seen anything this shockingly beautiful in his entire life.

But he doesn’t. He just keeps talking as if nothing happened.

They try to come up with the most ridiculous non-sequitur involving something which actually happened to them tied with something utterly profane, Marius commenting on the music and mentioning the time he almost got hit by lightning while flying, Dom talking about a car modification he only knows due to a guy adding it to his coupé whom he later buried in the woods.

If anyone had been listening, they might’ve thought the two of them were trivialising it all, refusing to acknowledge its far-reaching consequences, blind to the effects it had on them as people, Dom especially. Marius couldn’t explain it, but it’s oddly cathartic: they’re more than the cumulative result of these events. Dom is so much more than that. And in portraying his past as trivial, he’s redefining himself.

Marius barely catches himself before he reaches out to take Dom’s hand when he hears about Cedrick. It’s a close call and he pretends he received a message to surreptitiously take a deep breath without having to reply straightaway. The twins were close, maintained a façade of aloofness but always knew what was going on in each other’s lives. Hearing that Dom himself was responsible for Cedrick’s discharge is bitter.

His tension dissipates somewhat when his stomach growls in protest over the missed dinner and Dom throws him an amused glance.

Since it’s too late for supermarkets to still be open, they stop at a gas station and Marius seeks out some semi-normal food to last them a while as Dom refuels the car. Weirdly enough, the pit stop gives him the feeling of a road trip, of lacking responsibilities and the world being at his feet which are still very bare. Fortunately for him, the cashier is about twenty years past caring about odd costumers after ten o’clock and allows him to buy terrible barbecue-flavoured crisps, a Snickers bar which is entirely too large and Oreo cookies. For good measure, he’s added a sandwich but really, it’s the junk food putting a spring in his step.

When he presents his haul to Dom, he’s met with an eyebrow raised in disapproval, yet when he opens the crisps, Dom shoves a large handful into his own mouth before paying for the fuel. Suddenly giddy in his newfound feeling of limitless freedom, he fidgets and dances around the car a little, careful not to step into anything, and nearly jumps out of his skin when his pocket vibrates.

 _Everything alright? Where are you guys?_ , Monika writes and he’d bet all of his money on the fact that Elias made her text him. She’s convinced he’s old enough to make his own decisions.

Dom imitates him and leans against the car, almost close enough to touch, and his presence is unbearable. They must’ve been driving for over an hour, Marius put on a different CD at some point and he forgot just how piercing Dom’s eyes are. Sitting next to him in the darkness almost felt as impersonal as a phone call, he lost all sense of self and of Dom’s proximity but here, now, in the harsh light of the petrol station, he’s _tangible_ , so vivid Marius wants to lean into him to steal some of his vibrancy.

It’s like meeting him again after an absence filled with phone calls and text messages.

“What does she want?”, Dom asks calmly and indicates the phone before tilting closer, reaching into the forgotten bag in Marius’ hand and crunch on some more crisps. Marius will never be able to convey to him just how important this moment feels to him, but it’s alright. He’ll try to show him differently.

“To know where we are”, he replies with numb lips, mesmerised by the realisation of how much he wants Dom. How much he wants to integrate him back into his life.

“Wales”, comes the curt answer and Dom must’ve noticed something or else why would there be this tiny smirk, knowledgeable and flattered.

“Do you know where exactly?” A slow shake of the head. He shifts his weight and his arm brushes against Marius’, leaving behind a burning, tingling warmth. “Do you know how to get back?” Another shake. “Do you want to keep driving?”

“Yes.”

When Dom’s thumb touches Marius’ lips, he parts them without thinking, licking the heavy flavour off, and Dom keeps up eye contact even as Marius closes his mouth around the first knuckle and sucks on it even though the barbecue taste is long gone.

“Then let’s go”, Dom whispers and doesn’t mention Marius’ visible arousal as they climb back into the car.

 

The uneasy tinge accompanying all their recent conversations has vanished. It’s an immense relief for Marius to no longer feel like he’s navigating a mine field, especially as he encounters enough trouble deciphering the meaning behind Dom’s words sometimes as it is. Now he’s ceased feeling insecure about it and has the peace of mind to observe their surroundings more, pay more attention to things other than their conversation which previously occupied and required all of his focus.

He feeds Dom one of the sandwich halves and playfully tries to shove as much as he can into his mouth, prompting undignified chortles and momentary swerving testing the strength of his seatbelt. Since he neglected to buy anything to drink, Dom lets it slip that he’s got one or two or six cans of beer in the back and sighs as Marius takes this as his cue to climb onto the back bench and rummage around in the tiny trunk until he finds two. Wisely he lowers the window and holds it outside while opening it, licking off the excess liquid which frothed over off his fingers before taking a sip.

“Mmm, lukewarm beer is my favourite”, he states drily and hands it over to Dom in order to rip open the pack of Oreos.

“Choosy beggar.”

“If you just had some water in your car like a normal human being -”

“This is by far the worst dinner I’ve ever been invited to.”

Marius’ laugh is a little strangled but a side glance reveals another, smaller version of Dom’s killer smile and it seems they’re over it. Relief makes him feel high and he rides it for as long as he can, mimicking Dom’s now relaxed body language and allowing whatever he’s thinking to roll over his tongue. It takes him shamefully long to notice Dom is checking him out again and when he does, he purposefully stretches a little, shows off his midriff, preens under his gaze.

All of it is forgotten when he spots a sign by the road both exciting and unexpected. “There”, he points emphatically, “make a right!”

Dom doesn’t respond but obliges, follows the signs without having to be prompted and eventually stops the car on an empty parking space. They must be in a small town, passed buildings on the way but here it’s utterly deserted and only sparingly illuminated. “Do you wanna go?”

Marius confirms and exits the vehicle, grimacing a little at the cool stone ground. The stiff breeze feels a tad uncomfortable on his skin but he’ll be damned if he’ll let this chance go to waste. Stone turns into coarse stairs which turn into sand. Dom must’ve driven almost straight West for them to end up by the sea.

For a while, the exhilaration from being on a beach at night is enough to keep them occupied, Marius wiggling his toes into the sand and Dom drawing a dick, unsurprisingly, but eventually the salty air pushes them together not far from where gentle waves wash up. They’re retreating, it’s falling tide and so they step dangerously close to the water.

“My extended family spends a lot of holidays in the Netherlands, by the sea”, Marius tells the man next to him and stares out into the inky blackness. “When I was younger, they often took me with them. They still invite me now and then.”

“I don’t think my family is going to invite me to anything anymore.” The words are mumbled around a cigarette painstakingly lit after many, many attempts and though they sound nonchalant, Marius has no doubt of the bitterness lying behind them.

“We can go”, he says, too fast for his brain to stop him. “Together. Doesn’t have to be the Netherlands.”

Dom takes a deep drag and, with deliberate movements, extinguishes it against the pack it came from before sliding it back in. He’s taking his time while Marius watches, breath held in anticipation. “Marius”, he begins and it’s probably the first time he’s said his name to his face since they joined Rainbow, “what do you want from me?”

He’s extremely glad he doesn’t have to be the one to bring up this particular topic; still, he has answers ready. “I want what I couldn’t have back then.”

“Me?” He doesn’t like the disbelieving tone but nods regardless. “Despite…” A vague gesture, probably pertaining to his entirety. He nods again.

“Yes. And _because_.”

“I get horrible nightmares, I might keep you up at night.”

“I can’t for the life of me separate rubbish correctly.”

Dom pauses and his hesitation, his lack of understanding is palpable. “No, I – I drink too much and -”

“And I have developed the uncanny ability to always steal the blanket.” He doesn’t care. He’s in it now, he’s decided a while ago.

Dom understands and relents. Even so, doubt is thickly covering his voice when he dares to ask: “Are you sure?”

Marius doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into, isn’t certain whether he’ll be able to share Dom’s burdens, be merely allowed to cheer him on from the sidelines or be a much-needed distraction, can’t be sure their job isn’t going to force them apart yet again. All he knows is that Dom is worth it, so he cups his cheeks, runs his thumbs through the beard, climbs higher with his left hand to feel the scar; it’s laid bare as no hairs grow on it and oddly smooth. “Yes”, he says against the breeze and soft lapping of waves on wet sand and closes his eyes.

This time, when Dom kisses him, he sees no one but him in his mind’s eye, _this_ version of him, melts into the touch of mouth on mouth and reciprocates the languid slide. He holds onto slim hips and feels both a smile and Dom’s teeth tugging at his lips, and they remain like this forever, deliberate, devoted caresses exchanged in between almost shy kisses and bashful smiles and it’s so different to anything Dom’s been doing recently that Marius’ heart is rejoicing. It’s such a vulnerable display of trust that he sees no need to ensure Dom is returning his feelings because the gentle way his fingertips dig into the back of Marius’ neck – his absolute weakspot which can either drive him wild or pacify him into a catatonic state, depending on context –, the playful fighting of tongues and tight embrace which never once wavers as if he was terrified to let go all yell crystal clear of Dom’s infatuation.

Withdrawing is as gradual as it is dizzying; the realisation that he’s here with Dom hits him out of the blue, that he’s _with_ Dom, that they’re going to work together, spend as much time in each other’s presence as they want, that phone calls will be replaced by a short drive, that longing texts will be a thing of the past. He can’t wait to let everyone know, tell his uncle, Monika, Elias, his workshop crew, all his friends, let them share this joy.

“I hated it”, Dom murmurs and runs his fingers through Marius’ hair. His eyes are glassy and not really focused, his coordination has suffered and he ends up pulling on the strands, being a little too rough but Marius knows what’s going on, feels a similar urge: the unreal quality of their reunion urges him to test its actuality, pinch himself, pinch Dom, affirm that all of this has happened outside of his mind. “Being apart from you. Hearing about the guys you hooked up with.”

It’s the first time he voices jealousy. “I didn’t want to be a burden by being too dependent on you. And I only rarely did it anyway.”

“I know. I knew back then, too. You didn’t think you were good enough.”

He doesn’t say: _I wasn’t_. He doesn’t want Dom thinking the same thing. “Is that why you…” _Broke us up?_ “…ended it? Because of the other guys?”

“No. It was before I went undercover. I knew I’d barely have the time to contact you, let alone meet up. I didn’t want to make you wait.”

So he rather cut contact. Marius nods against Dom’s hand and when it glides lower to squeeze the nape of his neck, the almost electric shock of pleasure and promises simultaneously liquefies his bones and forces a quiet moan over his lips.

Dom’s eyebrows rise in interest and he repeats the action, visibly satisfied when it yields the same result. “Do you wanna go back to the car?”, he suggests innocently while massaging the spot mercilessly, causing Marius to cling to him in search of support, and probably not really expecting a negative answer.

And yes. Marius would very much like to go back.

He trips over his own feet and is only narrowly saved from a face full of sand by a hand around his biceps and this simple thing finally loosens all the knots in his chest. When Dom calls him eager, he just laughs, runs his fingers over his lover’s own half-hard penis and somehow ends up pressed against a wall, unashamedly moaning into a hot mouth and squirming away from purposefully ticklish touches – they’re a flurry of limbs, hardly ever stopping in their ministrations. Dom bites at the side of his neck and every jolt of pain makes Marius’ hips jerk forward, and when he pushes his hands under Dom’s shirt to stroke over his nipples, he earns a blissful groan in return. They’re always moving and getting nowhere, the sky tilts and Dom carries him for a short distance, breathing hard not from exertion but something else entirely.

Avoiding street lights becomes a game as well as a necessity when Marius unceremoniously shoves his hand into Dom’s trousers, struggles to grasp the growing erection properly and walk at the same time, the difficulty only rising when Dom’s tongue invades his mouth once more. The tip of it runs over his teeth and makes his crotch throb viciously, only now he’s stumbling again, staggering backwards and about to fall when he instead hits an object solid enough to support him.

It’s Dom’s car and how did they get here? How long did they take? None of it matters because Dom is on him in a second, yanking down his sweatpants together with his underwear and grabbing his cock with warm fingers without hesitation. They’re mostly in the dark, the lamp for this car park must be broken and yet it’s a thrill to do it out in the open like this. A thumb swipes over the sensitive spot on the underside of his head and Marius shivers in anticipation, hastily unzipping Dom in retaliation and starting a small fight of hands swatting at each other – Dom seems to have other plans but Marius wraps his fist around velvety skin regardless, giving a few light tugs and thrusting into Dom’s grip when he mirrors the motion.

Breaths and soft gasps mix together between parted lips, both of them guided by impatience and previously-suppressed lust; Marius wants to do everything at the same time, personalising marked skin with bites and hickeys, slowly dismantling Dom’s composure with hands or a mouth or his insides, be inside him, simply frot to completion. He’s driven by a deep attraction and newfound admiration for this man before him and he’s going to make this night even more memorable than it already is.

However, when Dom licks a wet stripe down his throat, clearly intending to sink to his knees, Marius stops him with a hand on his jaw. “No, I want to blow _you_ ”, he whispers and gladly takes all the control Dom readily relinquishes: he lets Marius tilt his chin up and increase the tempo of his formerly lazy strokes over his dick which is hard enough for Marius to feel the thin veins lining it.

“I’m not gonna come”, Dom replies, voice strangled, yet he endures the teasing without protest despite shaking like a leaf in the wind as soon as Marius starts nibbling at his ear. His cock jumps, fiercely enough to escape Marius’ grasp momentarily and he considers going down on Dom right then and there. The rough asphalt doesn’t feel very inviting though.

“That’s fine, I don’t mind. I enjoy doing it.” A dubious glance tells him he needs to prove himself, so he lets his tongue join Dom’s once again – it’s a little cold from all the panting he’s been doing – and raids his jeans pockets until he finds the car keys. Stuffing Dom into the back is easy with how malleable he’s become, following Marius’ lead happily. He knows it’ll pay off. It always does.

Marius doesn’t suppose the way Dom’s spine is bending against the door is particularly comfortable, so after tucking his own dick back in, he stretches Dom out on the bench and lets the other man’s feet dangle out the open side, watching with a grin as Dom pushes off his shoes and then pulls down his jeans and boxers to carelessly let them fall onto the floor outside. Kneeling between his naked, spread legs, Marius still can’t believe his luck.

Dom is _stunning_ , all long limbs and tight muscle and sharp angles, golden hairs adorning his legs and curling around the base of his jutting erection, and the black ink wrapping around his thighs is positively enticing. He’s blushing which is visible even through the beard, never really stops moving as if he’s uncomfortable with being scrutinised like this but Marius assumes the rapt look on his own face soothes his lover somewhat. His palms push the remaining fabric up, exposing a chest full of ink and more scars, whiteish lines and dots making up a Morse code of violence. Marius’ tastes have changed a little, where he used to prefer unmarred skin, he now relishes Dom’s individuality, looking forward to hearing the story behind each expansive tattoo, behind each scar.

And then he realises what allows him to admire Dom in all his glory like this: the interior light is switched on. Cursing under his breath, he jabs at it until they’re flooded with darkness which over time creeps back to reveal soft greys, outlines becoming sharper and sharper. He can’t see _everything_ like this, but enough to notice Dom’s dick twitching in anticipation.

Taking pity on him, he leans down and kisses along the length, catches it with his mouth when it strains towards him and tongues the ridges, earning an absolutely gorgeous moan in the process of which he’d like to hear many more. “It’s not gonna work”, Dom hisses from between clenched teeth and Marius simply throws him a smouldering gaze before starting to suck.

He genuinely doesn’t mind if Dom can’t come like this, he knows the other man is going to enjoy the journey regardless. He’s tried before, to no avail, so his approach now is realistic: make him sob into the upholstery and then – eventually – finish him off with a hand, the timing dependent on whichever comes first, his jaw locking or Dom starting to beg. Remembering just exactly what makes Dom turn into a puddle, he keeps the first bobs of his head shallow, purposefully not providing enough stimulation for Dom to get anywhere closer to an orgasm and leaving him frustrated, lifting his hips, arching his back, seeking more friction. He familiarises himself with the hot weight on his tongue, massages some spots with the tip of it and moulds his lips around its girth until he’s back in the routine.

And then he starts sliding ever-so-slightly lower with each motion, swallowing more and more, getting used to the feeling of not being able to breathe around the hot flesh, sucking with each upwards glide. He’s always enjoyed doing this to others, watch their expressions as they turn from eagerness to aroused disbelief, completely at his mercy – he knows he’s good at this and adds flourishes here and there, swirls his tongue over the slit, tasting salty precum, plays with the frenulum, tilts his head and adds just enough variety for the cock in his mouth to never fully recover. He’s done this a lot, and always has fun. But usually, the guys on the receiving end aren’t nowhere near as receptive as _this_.

Dom is a mess. He’s rolling his hips into Marius’ ministrations, has flung the leg previously trapped between the seats and Marius’ body over the backrest and is whimpering against the hand pressed over his mouth. This is partly why Marius insisted on blowing him, he takes so well to it: he’s said before it’s almost too intense, bordering on overstimulation and flirting with discomfort which is why it won’t let him finish, but it’s a fantastic way to prime him. Marius wonders whether he’s got lube in his car – fingering him additionally to this, maybe even fucking him after he’s shattered Dom’s composure completely sounds divine. He thoroughly enjoys this power, enjoys the fact that Dom awards him with it without question and enjoys the almost tortured faces he pulls even more.

His jaw is beginning to ache and his throat is protesting too; he’s managed to swallow Dom whole now, bury his nose in coarse hair and hold Dom’s lower half down just to be safe. He could stop and maybe let Dom reciprocate.

Or he could see how far he gets.

Despite knowing how to show off, often repetition is the key to building pleasure and so he starts a regular rhythm, keeps the deep movements predictable and relatively fast, not allowing Dom a single second to stop and think, no pause. His reward is a litany of half-broken curses uttered in a hoarse voice, all sputtered consonants and the occasional drawn-out vowel. Dom is beginning to look like he needs to use all his might to keep him on this plane of existence, knuckles visible where he’s holding on to nothing really, pressing his fingertips into the cushions and biting at his other hand in between bursts of unintelligible utterances indicating just how fucking amazing he feels right now. Marius loves it.

Still, he wants to _hear_ Dom, there’s a reason why he left the door open after all. It’s always been one of his favourite features about the other man, simply how loud he becomes during sex. Not always, not in every position, but there are some which have him yowling and writhing like he’s being electrocuted and they’re incidentally Marius’ favourites. This is one of them, he’s interrupted very satisfying sex before just to suck Dom down and listen to him plead and whine as he rode the edge, unable to orgasm. He’s getting there now, Dom is carding his fingers through Marius’ hair, his sign of having had enough, of asking him to switch to something else.

He doesn’t. Instead, he snakes his hands up Dom’s torso to lightly pinch his erect nipples after bracing himself for the inevitable upwards thrust and manages not to gag when it does indeed happen. Dom’s losing control and it’s delicious. Letting his lover continue the futile jerks of his hips, he consciously relaxes his throat and allows him as far down as possible as he multitasks, rubs fingertips over hard buds, circles them teasingly and then presses a nail against it and that’s when Dom starts moaning noisily.

Thighs trembling, he keeps driving into Marius’ mouth and looks both ravishing as well as ravished, forehead creased in concentration and shirt bunched up in his armpits. He’s a sight to behold and his noises music to Marius’ ear. Idly, he wonders whether anyone in this remote town feels the need to go for a late walk out by the beach – if so, they’d certainly bear witness to just how much Dom is losing himself.

By now, his entire body is protesting, his back complaining about being bent like this, legs threatening to cramp up from the awkward way he’s kneeling on the edge of the seat and his feet are getting cold sticking out of the car but he couldn’t care less. He wants to hear begging, wants to feel Dom pull at his hair again in desperation, wants to taste more of his leaking dick which is making breathing more and more difficult. He briefly considers taking a small break but then Dom starts mewling.

“I’m not – this is too much”, he gasps, completely out of breath. Marius can feel his abs contracting under his lower arms and rolls Dom’s nipples between his fingers, eliciting an elated groan. “I can’t, Marius, please, I can’t come like this -”

Marius doesn’t let up one bit. He’s light-headed and aching and tired but he doesn’t care.

“I won’t – I can’t – _oh God_ ”, Dom moans and comes down Marius’ throat.

He arches up and curls into himself so violently he almost hits his head on the roof and nearly shoves Marius off the seat. His cock throbs and pulses, ejaculating deep and causing Dom to jolt with every spurt, accompanied by incredulous whimpers – like this, he’s even more beautiful, eyes rolled back, muscles spasming fiercely and pleasure tearing through him savagely enough to silence him completely after a few seconds. He’s still shuddering, still plagued by aftershocks and unable to relax, erection twitching when Marius draws back enough so he can breathe after he swallowed it all.

When he licks the last drops of sperm off, Dom reflexively punches him in the temple, certainly hitting hard enough to hurt. It seems like he’s even more sensitive now and probably rips a few hairs out when Marius doesn’t comply and instead laps at the head like a cat just to feel his lover try and squirm away.

Smugly, he rises back up just as Dom sinks back down, exhaustion softening his features but not quite hiding his fading ecstasy. “Oh my God”, he breathes. The muscles in his abdomen are still contracting now and then, so the afterglow will have to wait its turn.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they heard this back home”, Marius replies and doesn’t quite manage to suppress a wide, self-satisfied grin.

“Holy shit”, says Dom.

“I’m glad I can strike this off my bucket list now. Though it might’ve been a fluke. I should try it again just to be sure.”

“Fuck.” He blinks and seems to have trouble focusing on anything. “Wait – wait, no, not again -”

He’s _definitely_ trying this again and the powerless look on Dom’s face tells him his lover is keenly aware of this fact. “Do you want to cuddle a bit?”

“Do I have to move?”

Marius, still grinning, wordlessly stretches out on top of Dom, humming contentedly when arms weakly wrap around him. The prospect of snuggling up to Dom in the future is one which fills him with sheer bliss. “I just hope no one saw us. Or heard.”

“Jesus H. Christ.”

Alright. Maybe he needs a minute. Marius smiles against Dom’s beard and kisses any exposed skin he can reach until the body next to him has stopped pretending there’s a mid-sized war going on: breathing and pulse have calmed and so has Dom, turning him to an oversized house cat curling into Marius with a happy purr which is too endearing for words. “I’m the first who’s done this to you, aren’t I?”, Marius can’t help but ask and earns a scoff at his triumphant tone of voice.

“There’s no stopping your ego trip now”, Dom grumbles and lightly rakes his fingernails down Marius’ back, causing a pleasant tingling. “Yeah. That was the first time. Stop looking so proud of yourself.”

“But I am proud. I can’t wait to tell the whole world that I accomplished the impossible.”

“If you do that, I’ll tell people about the time you came in your pants from a bit of dry humping at the station.” And still, Dom whispers something which sounds suspiciously like a _thanks_ before locking their lips. They snog lazily, rub their legs together and run hands over bodies, enjoying the simple stimulation and each other’s proximity. Eventually, after more playful banter, they both get up, Dom dresses and then gently cups Marius’ erection while he’s stretching next to the car.

“I’d love to do the same thing to you but I feel someone will have called the police by now, so how about this: I tease you all the way back and then we fuck in a proper bed.”

The ease with which he utters the plan is telling of how comfortable he already is with Marius and despite the suggestion and the light touch making his head spin, he’s moved. All he can picture is tangled limbs, an arm slung around his midriff as he drifts off to sleep, bickering over early morning coffee, awkwardly suggesting dates while being ready to backpedal at any moment, working side by side in pleasant silence, bouncing ideas back and forth, tinkering in their spare time.

For once, he’s focused on their future.

“I’d love that”, he responds and means all of it, every single part, even the complicated, saddening, confusing, frustrating bits. And Dom’s smile, vibrant and bloody _gorgeous_ makes him think he’s suddenly developed the ability to read minds.

They open another beer, say goodbye to the sea and leave the parking space to the tinny voice coming from Dom’s phone, telling them where to go. _2 hrs 19 mins_ , the display claims, prompting a look from Dom and the promise to make it in under 2 hours. Marius gets his own phone out and finally replies to Monika, informing her they’ll be returning in a while and to save some dinner.

 _Everything ok?_ , she wants to know and probably means Marius himself.

He smiles at the underlying worry and types back: _We kissed and made up_.

_Go sleep over at Dom’s then, Eli is dead on the couch from eating too much._

That is a great idea, an excellent idea indeed, so Marius relays it and doesn’t miss Dom’s eyes lighting up at the implication. “Shame we already got a noise complaint the other week, but sounds like Sarah From Upstairs just has to suck it”, he mumbles into his beard, sparking a chuckle.

“Just like you.” Marius winks cheesily at him and readily makes his crotch available so Dom can begin his relentless groping – he really will keep it up for most of the car ride as it’s an automatic, so one of his hands is largely unoccupied, and they’ve been to the cinema before. Marius knows he doesn’t make these kinds of promises lightly. He shuts his eyes and basks in the blunt touches, thoughts going a mile a minute over all the things he can still tell Dom, all the stories he hasn’t heard, all the places they can visit together and activities they can do. He’ll definitely steal one of Dom’s shirt out of his laundry and wear it whenever they can’t sleep together. Which might not be all that often now.

And while the Welsh countryside whooshes past the windows, while Dom sings along to the rock band currently on, while Marius remembers he still has a Snickers bar with which he can bribe Dom (because really, his refractory period isn’t _that_ long, if he got off now, he’ll be good to go when they’re back, though he supposes Dom enjoys the power trip of watching Marius come undone slowly and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t get it), he realises he’s genuinely happy.

“If you get tired, I can take over for you”, he offers, indicating the steering wheel.

“Absolutely not”, Dom snorts and then laughs at Marius’ offended expression and it’s so open and unguarded that he still feels it in his bones minutes later.

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit [my tumblr](http://kiruuuuu.tumblr.com/) if you'd like to say hi ♥ I'm much more active there :)


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